


Coming Back With Missing Pieces (Were they there to begin with?)

by Trololololoz (SillyWriterKidz)



Series: Trollhunter Drabbles/ one shots [4]
Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: Angst, Gen, Graphic Description, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Self-Esteem Issues, Steve manages to get home in time for everything that just happened in wizards to catch up with him, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whump, bad mental state, steve trying to process what happened and does so poorly, wizard spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25818991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyWriterKidz/pseuds/Trololololoz
Summary: Im fucking pissed. Me writing about Steve trying to process things once he's alone after the end of wizards
Series: Trollhunter Drabbles/ one shots [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1463170
Comments: 22
Kudos: 52





	Coming Back With Missing Pieces (Were they there to begin with?)

**Author's Note:**

> So uh yeah um. Anger writing.

_“That doesn't sound like a **real** problem, Steve.” _

They walked home after that. Toby, Jim, and Claire all together chatting and having fun and laughing. Krel was with them too, talking to Douxie about his plans. They talked about what to do and how to do it. How they could rest. 

Steve trailed behind them, his mind empty. 

It’s happened before, the autopilot mode as Steve calls it. He just sometimes zones out, blanks out, and finds himself somewhere else or doing something completely different than what he last remembered. Sometimes he lost only seconds, sometimes it was entire hours. He’s home now. Coach is out with his mom somewhere. There are no leftovers, no food. Well, there’s food but Steve can’t find it in him to even reheat some pizza rolls. 

His hair has had gel in it for who knows how many days straight. Steve had been very consistent in making sure to wash the crusty stuff out of his hair every night. He hadn’t been able to when they traveled back in time. No gel to reapply in the morning. He has to look his best after all. Something his _father_ instilled ~~beat into~~ in him. 

Sometimes ~~all the time~~ it feels like Steve isn’t even in his own body. It’s like he’s just watching his body move and act of its own accord. Steve doesn’t even recognize who he’s looking at, hasn’t for a long time, maybe he’s never recognized his own face. A pretty face. An ugly face. The way he viewed his face depends on who controlled Steve’s body. Who Steve was with. Steve was reactive, his personality fixed itself to go with whoever he was around, adjusting it the longer he was around them to fit _them_. He played the boyfriend to Aja, thinking he did everything right only for her to leave. For Pepperjack to leave. For Claire and Toby and Jim to leave. Jim didn’t even acknowledge him. 

Uh Hello? He did help him save the trolls that time. 

_Ah_ , there he was. The **angry** Steve. The _defensive_ Steve. 

~~Defensive because if you hit the other person first they won't hit you back.~~

He’s in the bathroom now. His head under a sink that was flowing with scorching hot water. Steam billowing up and clearing his nose and pores ~~and his wretched body of who he was~~ . Steve scrubbed at his scalp to just get the gel out of his hair. He didn’t want to think but _oh_ of course he would have to. 

Think about Claire’s glare at him when he wanted to join in on the hug. It’s not her fault he could’ve worded it better. He shouldn’t have expected her to be nice to him. Even when she tried to stop his and Jim’s fight it wasn’t for his sake it was because he _wasn’t worth it._ She didn’t care about him. 

He thought about how he was just a cheap replacement to Domzalski. How once Jim and Claire came back he was thrown to the sidelines. It’s fine, it’s alright. It’s what everyone does. 

~~He didn’t bother thinking about the hug. He didn’t trust it. After all, why should he? It’s all been _lies_ before. ~~

Douxie… Douxie was okay. He didn’t really bother with Steve which was fine. It was fine. It’s not like he didn’t want to learn magic or do all the cool stuff he could do. It was fine everything was fine. 

  
  


~~_“Be courageous”_ ~~

  
  
  


Steve’s scalp was burning. He was scratching so hard it was _burning_ . Scratching like he was trying to scratch through his thick skull and scratch out the thought. Tear them out until Steve was filled with nothingness. Until there were no thoughts and he could go back to being just the guy that people barely acknowledged. Until it stopped being so loud, till it stopped ~~_hurting_~~. 

Lancelot was everything Steve wanted to be. Steve thought he was amazing, idolized him. At first sight, Steve thought he was astounding ~~because he looked like Steve and someone that amazing looking like him?~~ Then Lancelot was calm with him, was careful, and taught him in an easy way that Steve’s ~~shattered~~ simple mind could understand. It was like Lancelot saw the pieces and slowly put them in their proper places that Steve started feeling a little bit better, a little more whole. He looked like the perfect ideal him and Steve wanted that. He confused his emotions because of _course,_ he did. Steve would be so stupid as to confuse his _own_ emotions. 

~~It's not like he knew anything about who he liked. He didn't know. He didn't understand but everyone else did so it must be _him._ ~~

Even at the end, Lancelot believed in him despite how cringe their meeting was. Steve hated the Steve that took over. Hated how he reacted without thinking. Ugh. He didn’t even acknowledge his own voice from another Steve in his mind that talked about how Jim was ‘big’ _(he spoke with a hint of teasing in his voice, a smirk on his lips)_ like Lancelot. Steve quickly shut him up. Jim was with Claire. Lancelot was an adult, which probably was even worse because Steve’s an idiot. 

Then Lancelot died.

~~He watched the life leave his eyes. He watched him fade away and Steve felt something break more. The pieces Lance put back together so well were broken just like that.~~

The tap shut off. Steve realized his hands turned it off. His scalp was throbbing now. It hurt but Steve just sighed and used a towel to harshly dry his hair off. Steve then looked at himself in the cracked mirror, a memorial of his many tantrums. Without the gel to neatly keep his hair in place, it fell into his eyes. Wavy and free and so much like _him_ . Like his father, like Lancelot. A small voice wondered if he was a descendant of Lancelot, ~~which of course made Steve feel all the worse for how he first greeted the other ,~~ and if he was disappointed in Steve. 

Steve _loathed_ disappointing people. His fear of rejection was to the point that it was harmful. Words would catch in Steve’s throat. Thoughts would bounce all around in Steve's head about how to best react to a situation that would make the other people happy, that would keep them from looking at him with anything but happiness. He didn’t care if they laughed at him because then they weren’t rejecting him. 

Steve looked into his eyes and saw Lancelot’s dead ones stare back. He didn’t make a peep but slowly shut his eyes, his breathing coming out in harsh short bursts. He opened them again and Lancelot was gone, just like that. Everyone was gone. Just. Like. That. 

~~Everyone left him. Why wouldn’t they? He’s awful. He hated himself.~~

Steve found his hands feeling under his mirror for a moment. A piece of what happened in his past when he broke the thing in the first place. Taped to the underside so his mother wouldn’t find it. Would she care? One voice said she would, that she would hold him tight and tell him he’s not to blame. Another, louder voice, said that she would yell at him, berate him. What had he to hurt himself for? She’s the one who had to deal with that man longer than he did.

_Oh_ , but how Steve longed to hurt himself. How he longed to take this mirror shard that was so long and _sharp_ and push it against his skin till red came out. Steve didn’t think he was one to self-harm. He knows there were kids at school who’s done it. Knows that they suffered worse. Steve had nothing to do this for but he knew that the moment he did he wouldn’t be able to stop. The pain, the pain made his stupid fucking brain s t o p. 

That’s why he didn’t mind it if the others on the football team got to rough. Or when he hit the wall a bit too hard or fell just a bit wrong. The sudden sharp pain that surged through his body would hurt but then it would be _silent_. Steve called it a high pain tolerance. He’s always had one. He once tore off half his nail by accident and didn’t even bother to put a bandage on it. He knew his self-harm would be fake self-harm. Nothing like the people who actually suffer, who do it because they suffer. He would be mocking them if he did it. 

After all, if he started, eventually someone would find out. 

Secretly, deep down, that small voice wanted someone to find out. Wanted someone to look at those scars and tell him ‘he’s _not_ okay’ It was a cry for help. That’s what the tiny voice said. Steve would never ask for help outright, people had to ask him and the words would overflow like vomit during the flu. Disgusting and painful and constant until his throat burned and his stomach felt like death. The voice begged him to do it because doing so meant someone would notice and comfort him, _validate_ him that he’s not wrong, not insane or stupid. That his feelings are real and valid, that he's not broken. The voice begged because it was barely holding Steve together with mismatched thread and tears. It's so small but it cried so much wanting to feel the warmth of a hug like Toby's, to have been able to join in on that great big group hug Aarrrgghh gave the others. It wanted love and affection and it kept **lying** that Steve deserved it. 

But a louder voice won out. The voice that told him that people would look at him with disgust. With **hatred**. That people would ask how someone like _him_ could do that. He hasn’t suffered. Plenty of other people have abusive dads, worse dads. His dad isn’t even that bad. His mom isn’t even that bad. What in his pitiful life warrants him to do something that bad? The voice snarled as it screamed how he should have just started out hurting himself instead of others. Now everyone will hate him. Even if he died. 

One voice, that sounded flighty and cheery, thought about their funeral, their death. Imagined his body in a casket with people mourning him. Absolutely enamored with the idea of dying because then people would pay attention because then people would realize they treated him wrong. 

Of course, that voice shrieked about how they wouldn’t. How they wouldn’t even bat an eye. Why care for a bully? What has he done to deserve their forgiveness? They don’t owe him that. He treated them wrong and it’s only up to them to forgive him. He could “change” all he wants but they have no need to accept it. What’s the point?

So Steve continues using that Steve Palchuk face. Because they know that face. They have ‘accepted’ that face. They don’t reject him because they are used to him. If he tried to use any other ‘face’ then there’s a chance they could reject it, reject him. Aja did, Eli did, Toby did, Claire, Jim, Aarrrrggghh, and everyone else did. Lancelot did. 

The urge to cause himself pain grew stronger. He could imagine punching the wall until his knuckles bleed. His fists clenching tightly at the thought of hitting the hard surface. He could feel the shock wave run up his arm because skin against the hard wall would _hurt._ Steve then thought about bashing his head against it. Over and over until red started to run down the wall and his face. His brain started to throb as if he started to actually do it instead of just sitting on the floor lazily with his back against the cool porcelain tub.

He shut his eyes and imagined using the shard and slicing his skin open. Imagine the stinging pain and throbs as the blood trickled down. He imagined tearing his flesh apart. The feeling of tearing apart this body because if _he_ tore it apart then no one else could. No one else could hurt him if he hurt himself. In an act of impulsivity, he bit down on his forearm. Nowhere near enough to puncture but enough for his brain to work with. The pressure of his teeth that tear apart animal meets on his own skin and flesh. The idea that he could tear his own skin off. That he could tear it to shreds and look as ugly on the outside as he is on the inside was _thrilling._

The thought of that always managed to calm Steve down. Imagining the pain of actually hurting himself helped him. It wasn’t bad. He deserved it. He couldn’t actually hurt himself because only people with _real_ problems hurt themselves. People like Claire and Douxie and Jim and Toby and everyone else. Not him. 

Never him. 

Sometime later, not that Steve noticed, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway was heard. Steve got up mechanically, watching his body step away from him and put the shard back under the mirror. He watched his body get ready for bed, a cocky smile on his face that was almost like it had been sewed in. Everything on his body looked exactly like how it’s always been which is good. No cracks in his facade. No cracks on his face. If anyone saw they could reject him and he can’t have that. 

Steve smiled. He was fine. He wasn’t sad anymore. He’s not depressed or wrong or anything. His self-esteem was fine. He was fine. 

_That little voice screamed from deep in his throat that he wasn’t fine. That this wasn’t okay. That this wasn’t right. He can’t keep going on like this because eventually, the cracks come back. Eventually, he breaks just like the mirror and every time it’s harder and harder to find the pieces. There are pieces missing, once that his father took with him when he left for good. One that Aja and Eli took with them. Pieces Claire stomped on. Pieces that were buried with Lancelot in the past that Steve could never return too._

Steve swallowed, drowning the voice in bile and saliva. He never stayed sad for long. He wasn’t depressed because depressed people are sad for a long long time. He’s not. He can’t stay sad. It’s hard for him to stay in one spot so he can’t stay sad. He has ways to fix it, ways to get over it. He’s fine. 

He’s fine. 

He’s fine. 

He’s fine. 

He’s **~~not~~ **fine. 

_"When one fights, all secrets are laid bare. And I know yours. You are no knight, you are a **pretender** " _

**Author's Note:**

> man fuck giuys I don't know I went somewhere else writing this
> 
> So for those who may be confused. The strikethrough are Steve's thoughts actually going "WHey what happened wasn't okay, we're not okay. We should not take this" but Steve ignores it, buries it back down. The whoole "This Steve and That Steve did this" is more like... how you act differently with different people. For people who have a hard time reading a room or social cues (like we've seen Steve to do) I would think steve thinks about this like he's talking to himself. He's talking to them 'him' that was there at 'that' time. A way to push blame off himself and to not fully accept his own actions. A way of pretending he's not broken and locking the other Steve. 
> 
> A way to say he's not broken. 
> 
> The happy death voice was Steve thinking about how if he dies people would finally notice his pain while also the fact he would never have to feel pain again. A win/win
> 
> No Steve doesn't have DID it's more of... kinda just seeing your past self and like distancing yourself from them? Like you don't feel connected to them at all but you know they were you and those mistakes they did were your own? It's hard to describe
> 
> Also I just wanted to write Steve just,,, trying to process everything happening and not doing it well at all. Im just so pissed at how they wrote steve, like he wants, no craves validation and everyone just shuts him down. The one person who doesn't is killed. This is kinda also influenced by spacecowboyed's post on tumblr. Im just so pissed. After all that Steve would feel like he will NEVER deserve love or affection or ANYTHING


End file.
